


hold it together

by dzesi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, established sakuatsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 18:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dzesi/pseuds/dzesi
Summary: sakusa and atsumu have always had a bad habit of fooling around in public, but now, hinata wants in on the action.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	hold it together

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [quick & dirty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556883) by [dzesi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dzesi/pseuds/dzesi). 



> this started as drabble from nsfw sakuatsu week, then got expanded into a thread for bottomi week, and now here it is, remastered for ao3—just in time for sakusa kiyoomi's birthday. sparkle on, you beautiful little weirdo, you

it works best when atsumu ignores him completely. 

when they’re out with their teammates, or pressed close on public transit, and an idle hand sneaks under a table or behind a jacket to fondle at sakusa’s inseams, all without its owner ever missing a beat or shooting him a glance.

they’re lucky—atsumu’s always been chatty enough for both of them, and sakusa’s kind of a twitchy guy anyway, so nobody ever questions it if they see him fidget or shudder or glare. as long as he keeps his breathing clean, they can keep playing with nobody the wiser.

sometimes, though, atsumu likes to watch. nothing too obvious, just out of the corner of his eye—but enough to ratchet the tension a little tighter. he likes to try to catch the exact moment a reaction makes a break for it, dashing across sakusa’s face in shaky microexpressions. 

he likes to see the edges fray.

but sometimes, he’s not the only one who notices.

hinata’s been known to watch a little, too. he knows both of them too well, is the problem—he’s spent a bit too much time not-quite-third-wheeling, and between his being an over-observant little creep (his words) and atsumu’s noted fat fucking mouth, there’s not a lot of sakusa’s business hinata doesn’t already know.

and yet… sakusa can’t quite find it in himself to let it bother him, the extra eyes. and god knows miya atsumu could never be bothered by a little extra attention. 

maybe they’re not quite ready to admit whether it makes it hotter—the difference between sitting across from somebody who’s actually oblivious to their shamelessness and depravity, and sitting across from somebody who’s carefully feigning obliviousness, just like they’re carefully pretending like gym shorts don’t make it altogether too fucking easy to slip a hand up, up, up...

but next time, when hinata sidles up close and says, “this seat taken?” it doesn’t really matter whether sakusa’s ready to admit he’s into it or not, because even though hinata’s words are asking about the seat, when atsumu flits him a mild glance and says, “please, shouyou-kun, go ahead,” sakusa knows damn well what they’re saying yes to.

hinata fits perfectly into place. 

he’s good just like atsumu, both of them chatty and genial, cracking dad jokes with bokuto and teasing tomas about his dorky fresh haircut and the way he blushes when inunaki reaches up to ruffle it, and all the while, sakusa’s white-knuckling his sweaty drink while at least two different hands are playing in his lap, teasing and touching, both him and each other.

it’s a melange of warm, unpredictable fingertips, dipping into soft dark places, ticklish and evil— over his clothes, up his shorts, behind his knees, between each other's knuckles. they’re careful not to jostle or jolt, taking turns twining fingers into coarse hair, tracing around his growing hardness, touching everywhere except his goddamn dick, hot and agitated under the table, just a few feet away from their teammates and colleagues and friends.

sakusa tries to keep his shallow breaths even as his heart thuds away in his chest, which is strange and a little embarrassing, because he’s not _new_ to this. this isn't his first time keeping his cool under scrutiny; he's been making irresponsible decisions and fucking around in public spaces since he was a questioning teenager with nowhere private to be, but a powerful need to let another boy's hands sneak into his pants anyway.

but it's never been quite like this before.

it's terrifying, the way hinata and atsumu must be able to communicate telepathically—or they must be using code-phrases in the midst of their innocent conversations, still ranging lightly from topic to mundane topic…

 _maybe they're finally actually sharing the same braincell,_ sakusa thinks uncharitably, but then he almost has a heart attack because after hinata retrieves his hand from under the table to cover up a giggle, he blinks innocently at sakusa as he takes a long surreptitious inhale (just like the little freak he is).

and sakusa nearly chokes on his own spit in burning mortification, which is right about when atsumu finally slips a loose fist around his aching hard-on and it catches him so desperately off guard with relief he actually slips up.

he—sakusa kiyoomi—for the first time since he and his first high school boyfriend got kicked out of a movie theater—fucking slips up in public, and not only do his eyes flutter but he actually lets out a pathetic little groan.

he immediately puts his head down on the table. folds up in his arms, face on fire. what else can he do? 

"oh no, omi-omi, are you not feeling good?"

bokuto's too fucking nice of a friend. he's a sweetheart, and they don't deserve him, which is why, as sakusa mumbles "ugh, no, just—a cramp—should really drink more water—" he tries his damnedest to get hinata and atsumu to take their hands back into their own laps and just let him die of humiliation.

unfortunately, nobody ever accused hinata shouyou of being merciful, and atsumu's even worse. 

"baby, here," atsumu coos, putting one arm around him, rubbing between his shoulderblades. "you can drink some of mine!"

(and you know exactly where his other hand still is, tight, motionless, only offering any stimulation when sakusa writhes in his seat—which is near-constant, since hinata's fearless, already back to teasing, making him twitch up into atsumu's hand.)

"aw, omi-san," he says. "what do you need?"

the next voice sucks what little air was left in any of their lungs right out.

"sakusa, are you alright? do you need to get up and walk it off?"

shit. even meian's tuned, turning his attention toward their fussing from the next conversation over. 

"no, no, i'm fine," sakusa says, clearing his throat. he takes a quick sip of atsumu’s water, begging his own muscles to be still despite the tiny movements still being relentlessly coaxed out of him.

meian frowns, unconvinced, and there's actually a brief moment of respite as the absolute assholes seated on either side of sakusa pause, their own self-preservation instincts finally kicking in in the face of their captain's potential ire.

"y'know, cap," atsumu yawns, "maybe we oughtta go ahead and get him home..." 

sakusa pinches the bridge of his nose. it’s an olive branch, of sorts. and a trap, but it’s better than the alternative of sticking around and seeing how far they’ll push it. 

"i am getting a bit of a headache, actually," he mumbles, ashamed.

"oh, no!" hinata strokes his hair with one hand as he squeezes the flesh of his inner thigh with the other.

"sounds like that might not be a bad idea," meian agrees. "you guys go on ahead, then, and we'll settle up for you here."

(they truly don't deserve meian, either.)

atsumu slides a taunting fingertip all the way along the length of sakusa's dick on his way out, just scarcely dipping into the wetness of his slit and making sakusa's hips try to follow before his hand vanishes from under the table altogether.

sakusa's adjusting to make sure his erection is safely tucked behind his waistband before he stands up when bokuto says, "feel better, omi-omi! i'm glad you guys are gonna take care of him!"

and sakusa shouldn't look at atsumu after that remark—he knows he shouldn't look at atsumu, he _knows_ , but he’s weak, so he looks anyway. atsumu smirks, slipping that finger into his mouth like he's gonna chew on his nails and says, "'course we will. we'll take real good care of him, bokkun, i promise."

-

sakusa stays stooped and shuffling, looking some cross between chastened and actually in pain as hinata and atsumu escort him the whole way out, but as soon as they’re out of sight, he allows himself to straighten up. the other two are still laughing, still being cute, still walking close and bumping his elbows but at this point, sakusa’s just pissed.

he wheels on them both, feeling embarrassed and even a little violent. hinata easily dances out of the way, but atsumu stands his ground as sakusa grabs him by his shirt collar. 

“you absolute _cocksucker,_ ” he hisses, jerking him forward, but atsumu’s smirk doesn’t shake loose.

“maybe,” atsumu drawls up into sakusa’s face, his grin only spreading wider. “what, are you mad, puppy? did we getcha all riled up?”

“i don’t know what you think you’re playing at,” sakusa growls. “tonight was fucking risky, even by _your_ lax standards.”

“too bad you liked it!” hinata sings. he’s asking to get punched. “i mean, it got you all hot and bothered, didn’t it?” 

he’s literally begging for a fist to the face, but he’s wisely stationed just out of sakusa’s reach, so he gets to live a little longer.

“and luckily, it looks like we were able to get you oughtta there before ya incurred any, uh, _lasting professional damage,_ so…” atsumu trails off with a shrug. “maybe... let us make it up to you?”

sakusa slackens his grip on atsumu’s shirt and brushes irritably at the new wrinkles he’s put in it. sudden warmth at his back tells him hinata’s come back within punching range, but the arms that slip around his waist are totally unafraid. 

“please, omi-san?” hinata mouths against his back, almost coy. atsumu’s eyebrows are doing the thing that makes him look like he’s about to cry, but in a hot way. he even does his embarrassing pouty lip-bite that nevertheless gets sakusa’s flagging dick to perk back up, and sakusa heaves a sigh.

“you’d fucking well better,” he says, and atsumu leans in to smack a quick kiss directly onto his lips. 

“promise,” atsumu assures him. 

“pinkie swear,” hinata adds, muffled from where his face is pressed between sakusa’s shoulder blades. hinata squeezes around his middle and then slips his hands down his front to give him a quick squeeze through his shorts before letting him go. 

“just a little something for the walk home,” he winks, patting sakusa on the ass as they pick up the pace.

hinata and atsumu barely make it inside before they’re on him, shoving sakusa back against his own door and knocking the wind out of him, tugging him out of his clothes.

“i’d say i’m sorry,” atsumu breathes hotly into his ear, making him shiver, “but i’m really, really not.”

 _at least he’s being honest,_ sakusa thinks faintly as hinata takes him by the hands and drags him toward his own bedroom, swinging him around like dancer until he can shove (throw?) sakusa naked and backwards onto the bed. he and atsumu quickly step out of the rest of their own clothes as they follow, atsumu pulling sakusa’s upper body into his lap as hinata straddles his hips, both of them running their hands hungrily up and down his chest.

atsumu usually knows better than to try to play with sakusa’s nipples unprompted—he’s been slapped away enough times to learn his lesson—but hinata has no such insight, so he just goes for it, smudging his thumbs back and forth across them as sakusa’s body jerks from the painfully direct sensation on a part of him that’s always been too sensitive. and since they’re already holding him down anyway, atsumu takes the opportunity to play with sakusa’s armpits, too, lightly fingering through the hair there until his legs are thrashing unattended behind hinata’s heavy weight against his groin.

one beautiful result of all this breathless, half-miserable squirming, though, is that as he finds himself grinding up against hinata, hinata’s taken it upon himself to adjust their positions until he can grab both of their cocks in his hand, pressing them together as sakusa bucks. 

“baby, you gotta slow down,” atsumu chuckles. he strokes a few sweaty curls back from his forehead as sakusa’s squeezed-closed eyes peek open. “we’re not going anywhere.”

“and neither are you,” hinata purrs, reaching behind himself to pet sakusa’s thighs. 

they’re too good, working together. it’s almost scary. the same kind of wicked-sweet. 

“does that mean you’ll quit fucking teasing me and get on with it, then?”

atsumu beams down at him, watching his eyes dilate as hinata spits in his hands and squeezes their cocks tightly together to frot in earnest. sakusa tries to keep his gaze steady, but the slick hard feeling of hinata against him is too delicious not to give into. 

“sure,” atsumu says, “we can get on with it.” sakusa’s let his eyes fall closed again so he jumps when fingertips slide across his lips, sucking in a gasp. one presses in between his lips, slipping lightly against sakusa’s teeth until he obliges, opening just wide enough for atsumu to breach. 

“that’s it, let me in,” he murmurs, almost too quiet for hinata to hear. just loud enough to make sakusa shudder. “good boy.”

he feels like he could already be teetering, but he’s not ready to be done yet; they’ve barely even started—in private, at least—and he reaches down to touch hinata’s hand where it’s much too small to reach around both of them at once.

hinata pauses, curious.

“want you to fuck me,” sakusa mumbles, flushing all over again, despite their circumstances and everything they’ve already done. “if you—if that’s okay.”

 _“if that’s okay,”_ hinata scoffs, echoing him with a grin at atsumu. he bends down to suck a kiss just under one of sakusa’s nipples and then dismounts his lap, offering him a hand up. 

atsumu smears sakusa’s spit back across his mouth as he gets up and digs through the night stand. “ah,” he says, when he finds what he’s looking for; he tosses hinata a half-empty bottle of lube and helps arrange sakusa onto his hands and knees between them. 

atsumu combs his fingers through sakusa’s hair and then tips his face up by the chin.

“how ‘bout something to keep yer attention, while shouyou-kun works ya over?”

sakusa hums an affirmative, and when his elbows buckle momentarily at the first cold touch of hinata’s fingers sliding against him, he finds his face smacking straight into the hot wet head of atsumu’s cock. he gets the picture.

hinata eases the first few millimeters of his finger inside at the same time sakusa sucks atsumu’s tip into his mouth, the circle of his tongue briefly faltering at the intrusion, before sakusa sinks further down and hinata sinks further in. 

he tries not to do too much, too fast—he doesn’t want atsumu to be a quickshot, either—killing time with teasing little sips and slurps, happy for the chance to get back at him for his earlier torments, all the while breathing through the overloading sensation of hinata’s knuckles rubbing against his rim as his fingers dig deeper inside of him, feeling around for his spot as he fucks him open.

they all know the instant hinata finds the right place—sakusa sees stars, lurching forward until atsumu’s dick slams the back of his throat and makes him cough, and then he shakes as hinata goes after it like he’s button-mashing a boss fight. 

“fu—fuck—shit, hina—fuck—”

sakusa’s hardly even able to pull off atsumu to beg for mercy before hinata switches gears all on his own, carefully withdrawing his hand in favor of tearing open a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling it on. it gives sakusa a moment to catch his breath, glancing up at atsumu who winks back down at him, scrunching his nose as he softly wipes at sakusa’s eyes where he hadn’t even noticed he’d been tearing up.

“good?” hinata asks, stroking sakusa’s back as he lines himself up, nudging his knees out a little wider to account for their height difference (even kneeling and on all fours.)

“please,” sakusa breathes. 

he opens his mouth to invite atsumu back in again, holding the end of his cock delicately on his tongue until he feels hinata pressing hard and hot against his entrance. sakusa pushes back against him until he slides home, hips slamming together, and no sooner does he rebound from bottoming out, rocking forward, than atsumu shoves in deeper, too—and then hinata yanks back on his hips and sakusa feels his body go slack, loosely ricocheting between them as they push him and pull him, filling him from every direction, taking whatever they want and taking him apart until he’s just a pretty thing they can use up together, something beautiful they can share…

and sakusa knows, in the hot dizzy dark behind his eyelids, he knows he’s fuckdrunk and stupid and deprived of oxygen, but it almost feels like they’re gonna be able to meet in the middle somehow, and when the breathless absurdity of that image suffuses the sheer overpowering sensation of it all, he feels like a rubber band twisted to breaking, the snap sending tingling electricity from behind his dick all the way through his guts and out to his fingers and toes, and when he comes, it feels like a fucking tidal wave crashes over him. 

he’s drowning in it; nobody’s even been touching his cock but it’s seizing up all on its own, he’s spattering all over the bed below him, and if they weren’t skewering him between their bodies, holding him up, he’d fall right into it. but they _are_ holding him up—holding him open, holding him together, and they fuck him all the way through it until he’s so overwhelmed he can’t tell if he’s actually crying or not, which is when atsumu pulls out, cradles his face, and comes so gently all over his tongue.

hinata gets there soon enough, clutching sakusa’s hips as he digs even deeper and finally just stays, grinding against him, so deep sakusa can almost taste it when he feels hinata’s cock throbbing inside him.

(and that’s when sakusa finally collapses, so thoroughly spent that his own wet spot doesn’t even bother him.)

once hinata pulls out at last, he feels more desperately empty than he can ever remember feeling before, loose and tingly and clingy from exertion and sex chemicals. thank god hinata and atsumu are so warm. 

and they all desperately need a shower, but they’re pressed so close, holding him so tightly between them, skin to skin to skin, and it feels so amazingly good to stay like that that sakusa can’t even imagine wanting to get clean badly enough to let go.

so they stay put, licking lazy kisses on every part of him they can reach without having to separate, slowly and sweetly putting him back together again.

he’s almost asleep when he feels a smile against his ear. “so?” atsumu whispers. “how’d we do, did we make it up to you?”

they blink at each other in the dark, and then they look over to where they can just make out hinata’s sleeping body, a little furnace drooling lightly on sakusa’s shoulder. somehow it fails to disgust him. he finds, suddenly, that he kinda wants to keep him. sakusa hums, feeling unexpectedly tender.

“not bad,” sakusa murmurs back. “but i certainly won’t stop you from trying again, if you want to keep after it.”

“fair enough,” atsumu says, huffing a little laugh against sakusa’s neck, and then leaving a kiss there. “i have a feeling he won’t mind, either,” he adds when hinata ruts against sakusa’s hip in his sleep, moaning softly. insatiable. 

“just—do me a favor, won’t you?” sakusa yawns. “maybe next time, don’t try so damn hard to get us all fired.”

**Author's Note:**

> EPILOGUE:  
> they get a pretty good night's sleep, considering, but they still have to go to practice the next day... and sakusa has to act like his former "ailments" are all better after a good night's rest, which is a shame because now he actually has a REASON to limp! (thanks for reading! [come keysmash with me on twitter](http://www.twitter.com/dzessssi))


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